


The Uncrowned

by NeverAgainEvan



Series: Different Roads Sometimes Lead to the Same Castle [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASOIAF Rare Pair Week, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragons, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Warg Jon Snow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 09:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20307166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverAgainEvan/pseuds/NeverAgainEvan
Summary: Jon Snow's secret has been discovered when he bonds with a dragon that mysteriously appears in Winterfell. With this power he can save his uncle and cousins and change the predetermined route of the War of Five Kings.





	1. They Meet

**Author's Note:**

> A short drabble-ish fic about the uncommon Asha/Jon pairing, that I like for some reason I couldn't tell you.
> 
> The next couple stories in this series are going to be drabble fics. 
> 
> Inspired by the great story Valar Botis (All Men Must Endure) by sanva: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425864

Asha felt like she was being fed to the wolves – well dragons – as she stood on the pier with her guards, a few lords, and her crew, surrounded by the numerous citizens of Lordsport and the island Pyke. In fact, there were captains, crews, and citizens from several islands who weren’t scared to see this sight.

Asha was scared, even if she was reluctant to admit it. The first dragon to land on the Isles since the days of Aegon the Conqueror, had her stomach knotting in unpleasant swirls. Not to mention the danger it could bring once it learns of the Ironborn’s intentions.

For months they had planned an invasion of the North to take back the disgrace the Northerners dealt to them more than a decade ago. They raided our towns and destroyed our castles, though when she asked Dagmer Cleftjaw of the war he never mentions the wolves doing this, only the lions, eager for revenge for Lannisport.

Asha didn’t know who to believe, her father who had raised and taught her everything as his ‘heir’ but pride brittle since Theon was given to Eddard Stark, or Dagmer who fought the battles and cared more for Theon than Balon ever will, who never once blamed the wolves.

Her thoughts had taken most of her time recently, ever since the letter from Seagard arrived on the _Silver Boy_, a Lysene galleas out from Lys to Lannisport, Seagard, and Oldtown on the return trip. _Now they visit the whore houses, for father put their ship to anchor. _Balon had been paranoid of King Robert and Eddard Stark learning of his plans to strike back that he had been festering for years. Now that the time was here, he was making sure no ships that came in left with news of the longships and warships that dotted their coasts. Leaving Lordsport bursting of it's seems. The streets were always crowded and the brothels too packed, the alehouses ran out of ale a long time ago, it was pandemonium. The port was so badly crowded Balon ordered Victarion to oversee the moving of plenty ships out into harbor or lesser ports, just to clear enough space for their visitors.

Balon had called his family – still on the isles – to Pyke to hear the words. Theon was returning but not alone, with him was Lord Mallister. And what had Balon shaking in his chair furs up to his chin in the drafty solar, from anger, fear, or the cold, Asha did not know and knew better than to ask and unknowingly insult her father’s pride from experience.

Asha’s eyes were good and was beginning to point out the speck of the ship when Tristifer Botley, eager for her affections since they met up when word spread through the islands of the impending arrival of their guests, grabbed her arm and to point out the ship for her. She scowled and wrenched her arm away.

“I can point just fine,” she mumbled low but with enough edge to it to get him to back away. The never-ending presence just off to her right moved back a little, _not enough, but it’ll do_.

A low mummering swept the overcrowded docks as the large bellied galley took its time coming to port. She thought that the way it slowed down it would anchor out in the harbor. But it didn’t. Her eyes swept for the magnificent creature said to have been coming and its rider, to personally lead the talks. If the dragon was anything like the Lysene said she doubted it would fit on this galley no matter how deep its belly.

Lord Jason Mallister and Theon disembarked first, followed by a long line of guards bedecked in finery. Mostly eagles stood out here and there, one Greyjoy doublet, and a knight in silver-white finery. Mallister looked like a lord with his velvet doublet and his aristocratic features, deep blue eyes watched them all like an eagle. _He killed one of my brothers_, her mind absently registered. In Pyke, talk of her father’s failure was mostly not mentioned, and when it was it was during the arguments her mother and father had before she moved to Harlaw years ago.

Theon… Theon looked like a younger father, handsome, lean, and – she stopped herself there, the similarities ended there. Her father commanded attention, but Theon blindly swaggered into it, his smile was dazzlingly but frizzed. On the greenlands she’s sure many women would fall from the cockiness for a tumble in the sheets but here on the Iron Islands it would never work. He wore a thick gold chain on his neck, she prayed to the drowned god that he took it off some Lannister soldier.

She smiled graciously, “Welcome to the Iron Islands.” She bowed in greeting, and gently swiped her hand from Mallister’s reach before he could kiss it. “I am Asha Greyjoy.”

Mallister nodded his head in greeting. “Sister,” Theon mocked. “Where’s the pimples?”

She forced a smile back on her face, “Gone with age. I see your personality hasn’t changed.” She gave a mocking smile back, the same one. “Still the same little boy running to where he didn't belong.”

Theon’s face seemed to almost turn red. Even though he came at her first she would save him, _what are big sisters for, if not this_. “Where’s your king?”

Now Theon did not look pleased. “Damn bastard said he would leave Seagard three days after we left to arrive at the same time as us.” There was some genuinely bitterness in Theon’s voice, something she wouldn’t expect to hear about a person he grew up with. “Hopefully him and that beast drowned,” he mumbled.

Mallister, unfazed by Theon’s slightly bitter excuse was quick to add on, “Thank you for greeting us Lady Asha. I was hoping we could take the time to finish introductions then move on to the castle. It is dreadfully damp here.”

She nodded and as she began to turn, she turned over his words. “Finish introductions?” She scanned his retinue. “Your king is arriving late, who else could be introduced?”

“Me,” the man in silvery-white finery stepped between Theon and Mallister, she had forgotten about the man. If Mallister looked aristocratic, he looked almost regal himself. His bright purple eyes and ash-blonde hair looked austere, as if he had lived too many times when others died. _Perhaps he did_, “I am Ser Arthur Dayne, the King’s Lord Commander of his Kingsguard.”

She heard some gasps behind her. The Ironborn revile the greenlander ways and their customs, and sometimes word is hard to come by, but everyone has heard of Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.

“Ser Arthur,” she bowed. “What an honor to welcome the Sword of the Morning.” Now she knew the rumors were true, this king was true, if he had Ser Arthur by his side, Rhaegar’s closest friend then the Greyjoys had no chance for independence.

As she began to lead her father’s guests to horses to take them to Pyke, she heard the commotion. Seagulls were flying in droves from the coast to the town. Not only seagulls but other sea faring birds, like heron and pelicans, some who even fly further out. This time Tristifer saw before her truly.

“By the drowned god!” Some hardened sailor grunted out. Asha’s eyes automatically tracked the line of sight of others.

A giant black speck appeared in the distance. The up and down motion of the wings caused waves to start in the sea, the dragon was riding low and coming in fast. Someone panicked and began to run, some followed, others stood in awe or fear and didn’t dare move. _This is what the people in Harrenhal saw, _Asha absently thought in the back of her mind, while fear took over the rest of her mind.

When the dragon passed the outer docks it slowed considerably fast, faster than any ship could, even a longship. The breath of wind from its stopping blasted her in the face like an Autumn gale.

It landed on the empty dock next to the ship the king’s retinue arrived on. The wood creaked haphazardly under its size, and she feared it would collapse under its colossal weight.

The beast was huge, it was not black but a dark blue and had silver and gold slashings and under-colors. Seeing the scales so close she knew nothing could hurt the dragon. Thick and hard, like the shell of a tortoise but much harder.

The man on the back of the beast was not what she expected. He looked nothing like Aegon the Conqueror she mused as he unlocked the chains across his middle and hopped off his dragon. He had ear-length brown hair and pale skin, he looked tall and quick. As he approached Asha noticed he was quite beautiful, like the Dragonlords of Old Valyria if his hair didn’t match it.

He had the same eyes as Ser Arthur Dayne, but darker and solemn, nothing like a king’s eyes should be. He didn't have the fervour and drive her father's eyes held.

He nodded his head at her as he came before her. “I’m Jon – “She heard Ser Arthur cough into his arm. A look passed on Jon’s face that looked close to annoyance. “I’m Jaehaerys Targaryen,” his eyes bore into her. “And you must be Theon’s sister.”

She would never kneel to this greenlander as some others behind her did. Jaehaerys’s companions, beside Theon, glared at her for not kneeling. “My name is Asha Greyjoy.” She extended her hand.

“That’s a beautiful name my lady,” the king slightly blushed as he took her hand and shook it. He smiled at her. “As beautiful as you.”

She smiled back without thinking. Theon bristled behind the king, “Let’s go, I don’t want to keep father waiting any longer.”

Jaehaerys dropped his hand from hers and she felt the lost immediately. “I agree, there’s a war going on,” he turned to his dragon. “Winter!” She turned molten eyes on him. They locked eyes; a thousand words passed in one second. Then Winter took off into the air. As they mounted the horses Asha procured for them, she noticed Winter was in the sky but never far.

“Let’s ride,” she gritted out, still unsure of this king. He and Theon raced off laughing with Ser Arthur not far behind. She followed at a leisurely pace, but her eyes watched the beast in the air. She hoped her father’s pride didn’t have her dousing flames across the Iron Islands, for Jaehaerys wasn’t here to just return Theon, but to gain fealty of her father.


	2. A King is Ruthless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort of Dark!Jon chapter, in contrast to the last chapter that ended with him laughing and racing on horseback.

They stared each other down for a long time before either moved, and _Lord _Balon only moved when Jon reached out with his connection to Winter and her roar so loud it shook the very foundations of Pyke.

With a trembling hand fisted the Lord Reaper of Pyke stood and kneeled in front of the bastard of Ned Stark, and for Jon Snow it felt triumphant. Men as true as the Greatjon and Lord Bolton have kneeled to him already, but none as frivolous and brittle as bronze as Balon Greyjoy.

With a glance at his uncle, Ser Arthur, he lifted a hand. “Rise Lord Greyjoy and be welcome into the new Targaryen dynasty.” As he rose, he shot the darkest look at Jon, one that made even Catelyn’s disapproving stares before she learned the truth of Jon’s parentage seem like motherly glances.

The sight of Ser Arthur and Jon himself had become like daggers in her heart. The dragon pulled them out but left a gaping hole wider than imagined. He only hoped that when he gets his father back from the Lannisters, Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard could overcome what had driven them apart in the past.

“How did you know, boy?” Balon returned to his seat, deciding to pursue the conversation before he knelt. Even as Asha, Victarion, and Aeron all knelt to him.

“A dragon’s eye sees further than a human’s eye,” he took the previously offered seat. “Your plan to confiscate ships till you attacked was also a great plan that backfired. Did you think no one would notice over sixty ships not returning when their destination was the Iron Islands? Your reputation as pirates and reapers have not allowed as much leniency as you would think.”

“You’re saying that you’ve known we were to attack the North before you came? And you still did, knowing the danger?” Asha spoke, her accent was interesting to Jon. Rough but intoxicating.

He nodded. “Me and my lords decided that Balon was too much of a coward to attack the Westerlands again after what Tywin did to his lands. And with most lords down south the North was an easy target.”

As expected, Balon looked ready to murder Jon right there. “Perhaps, you shouldn’t mock someone in their own castles boy,” Balon murderously spoke.

“I wasn’t finished,” he held up his hand. “Too much of a coward to attack without assurances of not another invasion.” Jon stood up again and walked to the large damp and slightly covered with fungus on the legs wooden table. _Gods, the islands are truly poor, no wonder they raid_.

The table had some older maps of the North, he brushed them aside and was handed another map by Mallister. He unfurled it, “But we plan to take the attack to Tywin himself once we retake Riverrun. My cousin, has already begun to lead his men to the fortress and plans to make battle with Jaime Lannister.”

“Then your cousin is dead,” Victarion responds. “A green boy against the Kingslayer. You should be there not here dragon rider.”

“Well he’s not alone,” Theon steps forward and says, but he subtly retreats when his father and uncles turn their glares upon him.

“No, Theon he isn’t,” Winter roars again in response. Every time she roared; Jon noticed Balon would flinch and avert his eyes from Jon.

He liked that, liked that _maybe _too much.

Jon liked to use Winter to invoke a fear into these old prideful men, who would rather see ruin to their land and people face unfathomable hardship than to admit defeat or to lose power. Men like Balon, Walder Frey, and Tywin Lannister. Men who take and kill for no reason other than greed.

Negotiating with Walder Frey and the Battle of the Green Fork had been lessons on the real world outside of Winterfell’s walls. Jon unconsciously remembered the smell of burning flesh and coughed to hide the bile rising.

He thought no one noticed, except for the blue eyes of Asha Greyjoy. He smiled at her and she frowned in response. He liked that smile she showed on the docks. A _true_ smile, probably the only one he would see out of her, and he only got it after the fear of Winter had broken down her defenses.

“This is our plan, to meet Tywin here,” he pointed at the Teats. “The hills would be great for our cavalry, and then Bolton will hit the rear of Tywin.”

“The folly of a green boy,” Victarion said.

“The folly of a greenlander and demon worshipper,” Aeron remarked.

“Grave mistake telling us your plans. Who’s to say I won’t send Tywin a letter of this plan once you leave,” Balon said.

_Now the hard part, Old Gods forgive me_, he stared down Balon on his mighty chair covered in furs to ward off the damp chill of this degenerate castle. Arthur and Mallister sent him guarded looks, they had gone over this numerous times without Theon knowing.

“One, I can easily see if Tywin has fallen into our trap by dragon back,” he walked closer to Balon. “Two, I will burn your seagull shit-covered rocks for betraying me.” He felt like puking and crying. “Three,” he pointed at Asha. “Your daughter and several hundred Ironborn will be by our side during the battle, and I won’t hesitate to kill them for your betrayal as well.”

The solar was dead silent, the logs in the hearth were embers now. The oppressive feeling of the solar made Jon want to run into Old Nan’s skirts, and the weight of what he just said made his stomach churn.

“By the gods, Jon, you’re mad,” Theon said aghast.

“No,” he straightened and looked Arthur in the eyes, proud eyes. “I’m a king.” He loomed over Balon in his seat. “I have people to protect, an uncle to rescue, a crown to restore, and I won’t have the Ironborn stab Westeros in the back like they’ve done for thousands of years. It’s time for the Old Way to end.”

He expected cold and revengeful words to sprout from someone’s mouth but not the resentful one of Lady Asha. “The Old Way worked when it was one kingdom against several thousand bickering ones. Not seven unified by dragon fire.” She sighed. “we can’t fight your dragon, my king. But without reaping we would die. If you saw our ships from dragon back, then you’ve seen our lands. You know what sacrifices we had to make to live.”

“Quiet woman don’t speak as if you know these things. The Drowned God commands us to reave and reap the greenlands for their blasphemy,” Aeron roared to the solar.

“The Old Way is senseless and done,” Mallister remarks.

“The Old Way has sustained us for thousands of years old man,” Theon defends.

“The Old Way brings only death and destruction,” Mallister returns. “You invade, steal our women, crops, and animals. Kill brothers, fathers, and cousins,” Mallister choked out the last sentence. “Then you repeat, till you have burnt the coast, how many fiefdoms did you attack? Too many, I say, too many. As history shows, the greenlands retaliate and destroy your islands worse than what you did to ours.”

“A senseless circle of death,” Jon says. Balon and Jon haven’t broken eye contact yet. “The Ironborn always draw the short straw in these conflicts.”

“Our glory days,” Victarion yelled dumbly.

“Like I said, it only works when we were one against thousands of kingdoms. The last four hundred years have been a decline in our power,” Asha answers.

Jon liked her, she was staunchly Ironborn, but avidly against stupidity. “There’s something else you can do instead.”

“Starve and freeze once winter comes, your grace,” Balon questions.

“Winter comes with fire,” he japed but a ‘Jon’ from Ser Arthur got him back on track. “Trade. Trading is how.” He turns from Balon back to the table. “I see the wealth you have brought in from trade. I see thousands of ships come every year for your iron and other minerals and you buy foodstuffs, wood, and other products. Use your trade, and maybe one day the Seven Kingdoms won’t see you as the demons who herald pain and suffering but joy and coin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always been not a fan of the Ironborn ways and culture, I am fond of Asha, feel bad for Theon, and I love how dumb Victarion and Balon are.


	3. Battle of the Teats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my favourite work I have ever posted, but I wanted to get Asha and Jon's relationship started.

Don’t get her wrong, she has seen her fair share of battles. She had fought Lyseni pirates in the Stepstones just a year ago. She was bloodied there. She got her first kill, her first wound to her left leg, but otherwise came out unscathed. She was nothing like her father Balon who had fought in a hundred battles, or Victarion who is a great commander and fought valiantly in the rebellion. But she fought, and she did so with pride.

She had seen men bleed to death, begging for their mothers, mercy, or a swift end like some of the older Ironborn had asked that she had brought along. Then there was the smell of impending death that was so nauseous and scary but had nothing on the smell of the dead. She still remembers Cadwyl’s shrieks of death as they carried him to her ship to be treated. Granted none were maesters, but Cromm knew how to boil wine, Asha knew how to sew a wound, and Rolfe the Dwarf knew how to knock someone out or hold them down. But by the time they came to the ship Cadwyl’s wound was covered in mud and what she knew to be mixed with horseshit. Before they began, he was already never going to survive and they needed the supplies for someone with better chances, Rolfe gave him a clean quick death.

That was nothing to this.

This, _this_, was nothing she had ever seen. Death and destruction on a scale greater than she could have imagined on the Stepstones. Bodies as far as the eye could see, a mist of death hung over the battlefield. In the beginning she had killed two men, but then watched in terrible fascination as Winter swooped down on the impending cavalry charge and tore them to pieces with talon, fire, and sheer power.

As she watched Asha never saw the man in a surcoat with a muddied badger on it, she somehow remembered that he must be a knight of House Lydden, as he knocked her down. She rose to her feet to attack him, but steel soared through the air singing a sweet tune as it cut through the Lydden knight’s throat.

King Jaehaerys stood next to her, as Qarl steadied her feet. “Keep up Greyjoy!” He shouted to her and her men. He pointed to a hill with his sword. The hill Lord Tywin had set up camp. It was big, and she faintly remembered they were in the valley between two large hills, reminiscent of her own teats. “ONWARD!” he ordered to all his men.

Two other creatures of myth weaved through men’s legs and leapt on to the men charging the king faster than any dog she’d seen could do. The king ran after them with his cousin and Ser Arthur not far behind.

As much as her mind railed against the idea of this whole battle. _Mystical creatures fighting by our side, this is all a dream_, her mind said constantly. But her feet followed the king and she rejoined the fray. Side by side with Glovers, Mormonts, Freys, Paeges, Tullys, and even Stark men. _If father could see his daughter now_, except Balon was on Pyke mending his wounded pride while his children fought in the Battle of the Teats like they were heroes in some old story that Maester Galen said could never have been possible.

_Look now_grey rat, see the direwolves weaving and dodging and tearing throats, look above a dragon soars and breathes blue-red flames on enemies. How he knew those that were enemies and others who were allies she didn’t know. But she watched the king, every time his direwolf or dragon did something he would stare long at them or close his eyes.

She leapt over burnt bodies and burning bodies, men clutching their guts to keep them inside. She heard men screaming for their mothers and mercy, it reminded her of Cadwyl.

By the time she realized they were climbing the Teat Tywin had taken command on, Asha had lost her throwing axe, her dagger, and even the clubbing axe Balon gave to her. She had somehow grabbed a sword, a fine sword in fact, a bastard sword of blue steel. All she knew was that she had killed an innumerably amount of men behind her, and she didn’t feel good or bad about it.

After killing a tiresome opponent, she and the king crowned the hill, to find no one. There were signs of a camp hastily packed, and horse marks in the mud, but no horses or people to see. “He’s gone,” the king said after a minute of being quiet. Tywin Lannister had run; he saw his defeat and ran for another chance. Against a dragon she didn’t think he had one.

“Did we win then?” Lord Stark’s auburn hair was browner by the time he dismounted; he was the only person still ahorse in their charge.

“No, as long as Tywin holds the Iron Throne through Joffrey, it won’t end,” Ser Arthur declared.

The men in their charge began to cheer, and Asha saw that behind her the battle was done, Lannister men were retreating after hearing them cheer on top of the hill. On the right flank near a mile away, the fight was still going strong though.

She was going to tell Ser Arthur about the fighting on the right flank when he almost shouted at the king. “Your grace, that would be extremely unwise.”

“Why not, if he had sided with my father then all this could have been avoided,” the king closed his eyes and soon Winter appeared slowly descending. “He killed my sister and brother in cold blood, he killed your lov-“

“Jon!” Arthur gritted out.

“We should capture him,” Maege Mormont said. “Have him stand trial.”

“Bugger that! I say bring back his ashes my king!” The Greatjon declared.

“And while you’re doing that bring us Joffrey the Illborn’s head too!” Some minor masterly lord said.

“I can kill him now and end this war, here and now,” the king raised his voice.

“He’s a great lord, you don’t just kill great lords because they are against you! There are rules in chivalry, if you kill him, you won’t have any leverage to get other great and small lords to bend the knee.” Ser Arthur argued.

“Was it chivalric to kill Rhaenys, Aegon, and Elia,” Winter landed behind him. “You told me, nay taught me all my life, vengeance is how we avenge them, now you caution peace?!” He turned to mount Winter when Asha grabbed his arm.

Even when he threatened her father, Asha had never seen his eyes so enraged. When he saw it was her they softened slightly. “Your grace, the battle is done for today. You are in a bloodlust; I have seen it before. No man makes good decisions in a bloodlust.”

“That’s a stupid excuse,” he wrenched his arm away from her.

“Maybe, but you have a dragon. What is the rush, you can find him easily tomorrow, your grace?”

“Or I can kill him now,” Winter’s head bowed. If he mounted the dragon the king would go on to kill Tywin. To her it wouldn’t be a bad idea, but to Ser Arthur and some other lords and lady, him standing trial would bring an end to him anyway.

“And be your grandfather,” she whispered. Only the king heard it, and when he turned his eyes on her this time his eyes were blazing. He still mounted but flew towards the right flank of the battle.

“Thank you, my lady,” the Lord Commander bowed. He watched by her as the king tore through Crakehall’s men like a butter knife against butter but with fire. “It might not seem like it, but my time at court taught me one thing.”

‘What’s that ser?” She said without really caring.

“Men have perceived notions of a king,” he watched solemnly as Winter and the king flew off back to the camp, they set up last night. “If Jon can stab a man as powerful as Tywin in back while retreating, who would kneel to him?”

When Asha returned to her tent the men were already in varying stages of drunk and celebration. The camp followers, or whores, she thought, were already out and getting paid. She saw Rolfe the Dwarf and the Smalljon get into a wrestling match as she entered her tent. She was invited to the main celebration in the large command pavilion, but she wanted to wash the grime and blood off her before.

She stripped and decided to burn the clothes she had fought in the brazier, except for the leather jerkin and chainmail and some plate the king had given her two weeks ago.

Asha remembered she had just disembarked at Seagard in her raiding armor. A leather brigandine and some other heavier pieces of armor. He looked her over once and shook his head. He turned to Lord Mallister, “My Ironborn won’t be fighting on ships but on the ground against knights. Find them some adequate armor before we face Tywin.”

The next day he personally delivered the armor to her. “Can’t have you dying in battle, my lady, I already threatened your father of killing you, I don’t really want you to die or hurt you.”

The cool water over her head felt glorious, and she scrubbed viciously. She was soon pink and smelled of roses, she wanted some other soap, but the camp followers brought the rose scented one to her, too tired to argue Asha accepted it.

She dressed in the only dress she had, a black gown with gold lacing that she hadn’t worn in years. As she tied the last lace up her bust, she heard someone speaking outside her tent. Her man let in a cloaked, tall man into her tent.

She clutched the dagger under the folds of her dress. “Can I help you?”

“You already did,” he pulled back the hood of his cloak and looked her up and down. “You look beautiful my lady.” He looked around the room and focused on the armor on the chair. “I see the armor has been of some use.”

She curtsied for him even though she didn’t know why. Why did she feel so feminine around him? Was it his presence or the fact he is handsome? But with Qarl she was the same boisterous Asha, but around Jaehaerys the King, she wanted him to notice her feminine graces somehow. She wanted him to know she was submissive to his charms. But she also wanted to tie him to her bed and ride him like a horse.

“Yes, your grace,” his eyes roamed back to her. “May I ask what your purpose is here?”

He took a seat on her cot. As the chair was occupied by the armor. “I would like to thank you for your words today.”

“I said what would be expected of everyone,” she replied.

“Yes, and more. You made me realize that even with a dragon I still have some prejudices to overcome.” He took a deep breath, “My grandfather was a bad man. He even burnt my other grandfather and strangled my uncle.”

“That is common knowledge, your grace,” she said.

He held up a hand, “Can you not call me, your grace. I hear that every day of every hour. I would love to hear you say my name.” His dark indigo eyes bore into her.

“Jaehaerys, that is common knowledge,” he scowled at her.

“Not that name, the other one.” He smiled.

“Well, Jon, if I call you Jon you must call me Asha.” She smiled back.

“I have no problem with that, it is a lovely name, Asha,” the words spilled from his perfect mouth. She wondered what else his perfect mouth could do. He stood and came to stand before her. “Asha Greyjoy, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the feast tonight?”

She stared up into his eyes. “I might object to such a thing, what would my men think?”

“That their strong, powerful, and lovely lady was on the arm of a dragon rider,” his smile foretold he hardly believed that as well. She took his arm and held in it such a way her curves pressed into him. “Not only a warrior, but a seductress,” he japed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Kudos and comments appreciated!


	4. Jon the Ironborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asha and Jon consummate their feelings, and Jon has an itch.

Asha could last hours fighting in battles. Hacking and slashing at men she had never once met before she cut them open. Men who hadn’t even done one wrong thing against her except be on the opposite side of what she wanted.

Dancing Asha learned with exhausted stumbles was distinctly different from this dance. All highborn, even Ironborn learned how to dance, but she so rarely partook, it took longer than she wanted to admit remembering the steps. Her hands were clutched tightly in Jon’s rough hands, and her feet slid around the ground covering in travelling rugs and her head was ringing with the sound of men, song, and the presence of wine.

“I feel I must say it a hundred times tonight, Asha.” Jon was smiling hard down upon her. His voice breathless. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

Asha beamed up at him, “I know.”

His smile turned in a teasing manner. “I know you know.” He took her left twice, then right, then back, then forward, then right. Then a little spin and swirl in between a few moves. By the time he was done, the command tent turned to a feast tent for the victory over Tywin Lannister was filled in applause.

“Your grace, you dance mightily fine!” Some riverlands lord sprouted.

“More graceful than the squid attached to you,” the Greatjon boomed, and Jon frowned at his words.

A few more men and several serving ladies and camp followers applauded him and showered the king with praise. She growled at one whore coming to close to Jon.

When the praise died down, Jon procured a spot for her next to him on the dais. “I take it you are not fond of women close to your prize?”

“Prize?” She asked, as a one of the camp ladies filled a chalice with cold, sweet wine. Which Asha needed desperately as her breaths came in fast. Tired and feeling a drop of sweat between her shoulder blades.

He swept his hand to all the people in the tent, the overcrowded tent. “Aren’t you just like them? Before I learned of my heritage when Winter came to choose me, no one wanted a bastard. Now look at all of them.”

“They see power in having you close to them or being in bed with you.” Her breaths finally slowed as her heart slowed. Still tired, she felt she could do a third dance in one day. A dance between the sheets.

“Which one are you?”

“Neither.” Asha remarked bluntly.

Jon did not like that. Confusion and wary shone on his face, “Do I need to be cautious of you Greyjoys still?”

“Always be cautious of Balon,” she smirked, her hand rested on his thigh. “Especially after defiling his daughter.”

Asha took pride, hurt, and annoyance in Jon’s response. He laid his hand on hers hard, “What do you want from me?”

She leaned closer as his hand started to crush hers, she feigned no pain, to whisper in his ear, “You.”

A sharp hiss rang through the dim of yelling, drinking, cutlery on plates, and singing. Jon leaned back relaxed, “Are you sure?”

“Is it not what you want?” Her hand trailed up his thigh. “I see the way you seek me, how you peer at me.”

Jon blushed hard. “You are a very attractive lady Asha.”

“And you a very attractive king, Jon.”

“Not king yet. Once Joffrey head is impaled as he did to my father’s, then I’ll be king.”

“Let’s not care for Joffy tonight,” she palmed his already hard cock.

Jon searched the tent, and focused on Ser Arthur drinking with Lady Stark, but had an eye upon Jon. “I’ll leave first, you follow. Arthur would disagree.”

Asha giggled, _gods she was drunk on lust_, “Your tent,” she ordered.

Jon’s eyes flashed in amusement and nodded.

With a speed that seemed suspicious Jon left the feasting tent, she giggled, he was more drunk than he probably knew. After two minutes had passed, she left in a fit of giggles to follow her king.

Finding her king’s tent was not hard, it was the only one in black and red colors. A color theme many had been too scared to use for a decade and a half fearing Robert’s retribution which would surely bring Tywin’s cruelty. But today we had a dragon, and Tywin was defeated running with his tail between his legs.

There were no guards at the entrance, Jon must have sent them away, she entered into the dark tent. It was not as decorated as she assumed. Beside a large cot, two chests, a wooden desk and a few chairs nothing else was in the tent. Completely different from the tent of Tywin her men had helped raid.

But Jon was nowhere to be seen. As she began to turn to leave, a shadow moved out of the corner of her eyes, she reached for her dagger, but it wasn’t there.

But she had no need for it, Jon materialized and grabbed her. She was lifted into his strong arms. At first, she stayed still, but then Jon said, “I’m taking you back to my home, there you will be my salt wife, don’t struggle now.”

With a dark and lusty smile, she struggled in his arms. Scratching and punching, lightly of course, to free herself from the life of bondage. Jon gave as good as he got, his left hand somehow slipped up her dress and fiddled with her core, and his right hand savagely palmed her right breast as he carried her to the large cot.

He deposited her with no grace. Her breath went out of her lungs from her moans, laughs, and being dropped so suddenly.

“Take your clothes off,” he said. She sent a challenging look. “Please,” he said unsure. She shook her head. As the thought came to him an understanding look passed his face. “Don’t make me tear your dress, wench, I ain’t going to buy another when we get to my shack,” he growled, and Asha nearly came then.

The next couple of minutes was then hastily stripping into the chill night air. Jon was suitable in stature, looks, and body for her, as she knew he would be. Brown hair covered his upper chest, he wasn’t hairy per say, but he wasn’t hairless, his purple eyes were dark in lust, and his dick was at full mast.

She stood and walked to him, as she did he grabbed her arm roughly to drag her to his chest. She smiled against it, “You are a true Ironborn, my king.” When she leaned up to kiss him, a grimace was shortly there, before she kissed it away.

After that it was a blur of passion. Once he was satisfied with kissing her, he set her almost reverently on the edge of the cot. “A true kiss for my love,” he said before he put his hot mouth on her and licked and licked till her legs gave out and she was trapping his head between him.

She expected her king to be as pure as falling snow, but he showed a new side she hadn’t found. Jon took her each and every way a man could have a woman, and she let him. She had never let even Qarl take her the way Jon took her. Submissive to his pleasure brought more of her own she found. By the time the sun was rising, she was sedated in pleasure and Jon was rising.

“Stay,” she asked. “We didn’t get any sleep last night.”

He turned around to kiss her brow lovingly. “I would if I could, but the itch is too strong.”

“Itch?”

He looked sad, “The dragon, Winter, her thoughts are changing me. I must go before she does something.”

“Something? Jon where are you going?” She asked as he threw on some clothes and put on a mail byrnie and coif, before dawning a helmet.

He looked like he wanted penance, “To kill Tywin before Arthur comes.”

“Don’t, I thought we were done with this.”

“It will never be over,” he barked. “Don’t try to stop it this time. Gods, this itch feels like it is cutting me open.”

She stood behind him, “If you must destroy, destroy those that still follow him,” she bit his ear. “Bring me Tywin alive, Jon, I want to break him.” The shudder from Jon wasn’t all in need of her, but in bloodlust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the deal, kudos and comments are appreciated, they really help me write faster!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated and loved!!
> 
> The title is inspired by Aegon the Uncrowned who died at his uncle Maegor's hands.


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